


The Sound Of My Scream

by TWDObsessive



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: 2nd chapter tags being added..., Anal Sex, Caring Rick, Close Calls, Crying Daryl, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Emotional, Falling In Love, Fear, Feels, First Kiss, First Time, Gratuitous Smut, Hurt, Hurt Daryl, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, POV Daryl, Rickyl, Scared Daryl, Slow Build, Waiting for the opportunity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 04:50:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4126035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive/pseuds/TWDObsessive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This was not the first time it's happened- one of us almost dying.  One of us is always almost dying."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd Drabble to give myself a breather from the longer D/s fic I'm working on with my beta reader.

This was not the first time it's happened- one of us almost dying. One of us is always almost dying. Sometimes we were almost dying together, like at Terminus or on the highway with the claimers. 

Or it's just one of us, walker's teeth hovering right over a wrist and I hear the distinct sound of Rick's python firing and the hungry mouth falls to the ground without breaking the skin.

Or two of the fuckers are on Rick at once and it's clear he ain't gonna make it and my bolt dead-center's one of the skulls, arrowhead going clear through so it's right before Rick's eyes and he knows I had his back again. Like I always do. Like he always does for me.

We've been in the showers before talking about it casual at the end of a long day.

"Hey, either one of us almost get killed today?"

And the other would think on it then say in honest-to-god surprise, "You know, I don't think so!" 

But this time it was different. It wasn't flawless. It wasn't a dramatic escape with explosions or burning barns or Rick's jaws ripping out another man's jugular. It wasn't strong and brave. This time it was just slow and sloppy and screamy.

Rick and I were alone on a run. We'd been gone for nearly 12 hours and were eager to get back before we lost any more light and we were likely getting a little careless. 

We'd cleared each store along the main street with well-honed precision and loaded up the white box truck we'd acquired with anything useful we could scavenge. We were like vultures now, picking away at what was left behind by others. 

I opened the front door out to the street without looking both ways. It had been quiet and clear ten seconds ago when I loaded some Mountain Dew into the back of the van. This time I was loaded down with an armful of expired canned peaches and I pushed open the door with my elbow. A hand clenched tight to my forearm and the sound of cans dropping and rolling away disoriented me. Two hands and then three were on me.

The day had been going so smoothly that at first Rick just yelled over "You ok?" from the cereal aisle of the small town grocery. 

Then I heard my own scream as I realized I'd been pulled out into the street, my feet the only thing caught in the door. I'd never heard myself scream in sheer terror like that before, even this deep into the apocalypse. It was foreign, very unmanly and absolutely terrifying. I'd always imagined I'd have a more manly scream. The walkers essentially had the equivalent of higher ground advantage because I'd fallen and was now below them. Four, maybe five of them. I felt my crossbow pinned beneath me, digging into my back and dragging across the concrete as they tugged on me to get the rest my body out so they could enjoy the entire meal. It was rare to get caught in their grasp like this, and I'd forgotten how strong their rotting bodies became at the promise of fresh meat so close to their hungry mouths.

I stifled my urge to scream again so I wouldn't draw more walkers and put Rick in danger, especially if he was going to end up alone. Time had stopped like a bent second hand in an old clock that keeps trying to move forward but hiccups back into it's new permanence.

It felt like the rotters surely had plenty of time to take some bites of me. I ran a mental inventory of my body parts trying to feel for sinking teeth. Both hands were held tight and I fought for them unsuccessfully. My feet were still caught in the door, toes bent up, the only thing holding me from being dragged away. 

Their faces were surrounding me from above and one, who still wore a catholic priest's collar, leaned in to my gut with his mouth. If I wasn't already completely emasculated by my unexpected scream, then I definitely would have been when I felt warm liquid bloom in my pants as I lost control of my bladder like child.

I didn't feel the teeth I expected in my gut. I managed to gather enough control to look down to him and he was gnawing on my belt. Half a dozen hands were pressing hard into my stomach and I just waited for one to press hard enough to pop right through. And the pulling started again. They had my feet! No- wait..Rick! Rick had my feet. There must be too many surrounding me to risk gun fire. But I hear the sound of knife to skull and feel now that it's Rick's long fingers wrapped tight around one ankle as he stayed partially inside the store front.

Then I heard new sounds added to the already existent cacophony of walker groans and my thudding heard and my crossbow scraping back and forth below me. What was this new noise? I'd heard it recently. It was familiar. 

Canned peaches. But one at a time and thrown far. Then I heard the explosive sound of glass shattering. One must have gone through a window of the van and I felt a few hands let go of me to follow the sounds. My knee banged hard against the door frame and I realized I was slowly becoming more inside and less outside. 

A few more cans hit the ground way past me. Thank God these fuckers were dumb as dirt. Once Rick had his hands on my belt I realized I my arms were finally free and I scrambled back inside, my crossbow slipping off my shoulder and left on the sidewalk behind me. 

A few of them still banged at the door as Rick and I sat panting, holding each other's gaze. He reached up and twisted a lock on the door and put a finger to his lips. I tried to stand and he came to my side to help as we moved far away from the front door and slid down against the back wall behind the cash register. I was trembling terribly. 

"Were you bit?" Rick asked, finally one of us making words. 

I tried to open my mouth to answer but I didn't know. Was I? I felt pain everywhere. Rick grabbed my arms, twisting and turning them. He moved his hands through my hair like Merle would when he was checking me for ticks as a kid.

Then he tugged my shirt off and I looked down at my chest. It was splotched with fresh bruises from rotting hands trying unsuccessfully to get to my organs.

"Jesus," Rick said, "That hurt?" 

It was a rhetorical question. Of course it fucking hurt. But I muttered, "Nah, s'ok," even though the look on my pained face likely gave away my false bravado. Rick shifted behind me to check my back. 

"Holy shit," he gasped. "Bleeding. Is this from them?" 

"Nah. Crossbow was under me. Digging into me." My voice didn't sound like me. It was shaky, scared.

"Stand up," Rick said, "if you can. Gotta check the rest of you." He took his own white T off and pressed it to my bleeding back. "Did we already put the medical stuff in the van?"

I had no idea. I could barely remember us coming in here. Rick took my hand and gently moved it around to my back so my hand was holding his shirt against the bleeding. He started unbuckling me and I suddenly remembered how scared I'd been.

"Fucking pissed myself like goddamn baby," I said. My pants were soaked and I could suddenly smell the urine. Knew I couldn't hide it from him. Might as well confess.

"Almost fucking pissed MYself," He said as he unzipped and unbuttoned and I let him. Knew we had to check for bites. He started tugging and I heard another gasp escape him. He slid my belt out of it's loops and held it up for me to see. A bite was taken out of it. 

Rick dropped the belt. He was shaking now realizing how close this really was. I stepped out of my jeans and boxers putting a hand on his shoulder to steady myself. He ran his hands along my hips, turned me and checked the backs of my legs.

The sound of his relieved sigh calmed me considerably although I was standing there stark naked with nothing but a blood drenched Tshirt held tight against my back and piss-soaked jeans laying at my feet. I dropped the T-shirt and kicked off my shoes. I lifted and examined each one before I remembered that my feet were the only part of me that were safe in the store the whole time.

The street out front was filled with groans. But none seemed to stay focused on our store front. 

"Guess we're here til the horde passes," Rick said, some of the confidence back in his voice. I nodded and touched at the deep blue bruises on my stomach, still smelling the piss from my jeans. Rick picked his shirt back up and reached around me to press it against my back again. 

My body started shuddering and at first I wondered if I was having a seizure or a heart attack. Then I heard the sounds coming out of me and realized I'd started crying. Giant, heaving gasps that made my ribs ache. Tears rolled down my cheeks with the same slow tickle as the blood that was dripping down my back. 

Rick hugged me, trying to be gentle because of my injuries but clearly wanting to squeeze with all his strength to convey the intensity of his relief that I was alive. I heard his breaths become wildly out of synch like my own and reached a hand to his cheek to confirm what I already knew. We both stood there, bad-ass leaders of the post-apocalypse, one of us naked, one of us shirtless, piss-soaked pants at our feet, both of us crying in heaving sobs like children waking from a nightmare.


	2. The Second Scream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second time Rick hears Daryl scream is markedly different from the first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. This 2nd and final chapter is for anyone who may have been hoping for some smut!

I laid on my stomach, every bruise throbbing, trying to keep myself still while Rick took care of my back. He'd found a first aid kit that we hadn't already taken out to the van. Thank goodness both of us were still hesitant to charge into women's restrooms, because that's where he finally found it.

He was spreading Neosporin gently along each cut with his finger. "Don't think I can really put band-aids on these cuts. Just lie here a while ok?"

I nodded, afraid speaking would turn into chocking cries again. He got up and he picked up my jeans. "Gonna hit the detergent aisle and wash these so they can start drying."

"Rick, don't. Jesus. I can wash 'em myself." I said as I pushed up on my hands, gritting my teeth in pain at the movement."

"Daryl." He said sharply. "Stay. Don't fight me. Ok? Please."

He walked away and I just let myself lower slowly back to the floor.

Somehow, I'd dozed off and when I woke, Rick was sitting up against the wall beside me brushing through my hair with his fingers like I've seen him do to comfort Carl. 

"How long I sleep?" 

"Couple hours, maybe," he said softly. I was still stark naked. Small town grocery stores didn't stock men's Levi's. I sat up and crossed my legs, hands trying to look casual as they hung in front of my dick trying to have some semblance of modesty. 

Rick guzzled at some orange Gatorade and then handed me the bottle. I drank the rest in deep, full gulps. I desperately wanted a shower to at least clean off the middle of me so the smell wouldn't keep reminding me of that fear. Gonna be traumatized now. Probably gonna have a panic attack every time I take a piss flashing back to that priest bowing down at my waist with hunger.

As if he was reading my mind, Rick put a hand on my knee and said, "Used the water from the toilet tank in the men's room to wash up our clothes. But you can use the ladies if you want to clean up."

I nodded and stood. Now that the paralyzing fear had subsided I could take better inventory and as I went into the ladies room I felt like I had a little more control. Back cut up, but the bleeding had stopped, stomach covered in fist shaped bruises. Christ I've gone through plenty of days with those exact same injuries dealt out by my father. I was gonna be ok. Everything was fine.

I washed up with a citrus scented soap and took a look at my back in the mirror. Nothing too deep. I was gonna be fine, I assured myself again. It was over. 

"Can I come in?" Rick asked from the other side of the door as he opened it, not waiting for an answer. He walked in as I was twisting in the mirror to see my back. 

"Worse than you thought or better?"

"Had worse. Had damn close to similar. I'll live. Guess the old man was preparing me for walker attacks all that time." Rick's known about my abuse. Was ok to bring it up to him. Our years together under these kind of circumstances made us tight. Tighter than brothers. I ain't afraid of nothing with Rick. He nodded in a way that was both with and without pity, a thing no one else had mastered, and it's the perfect response. 

Made me start realizing what he must have gone through. If that was Rick out there surrounded like I was? I would have been more afraid then I was with it being me. Would've been terrified. 

I leaned back against the vanity deciding not to bother with modesty anymore.

We just kept a quiet gaze, Rick in just jeans and me in absolutely nothing.

"Just didn't want to not have eyes on you." He said. Then fumbled a bit with his words, "I mean, not cause your naked, cause I just, I was.. I was so scared at the thought of ... Ya know." He paused and looked down, shaking his head slowly back and forth. "That was so fucking close."

"We've been through close before," I said trying to brush off the lingering scare. "Terminus."

Rick glanced back up. "No, that was different. That was both of us. Wasn't having to think of me being alive without you."

He ran a shaky hand through his hair, a movement I'm very familiar with. And I know he's got some kind of speech or shit brewing in him because I know him better than I know myself. Only reason he ain't started talking yet is because he doesn't even know what he wants to say. He just knows something's in there.

I nodded over to the silver coin operated box on the wall that I've learned since the apocalypse is a thing chic bathrooms have to dispense tampons. "Got anything to pry that off the wall? We'll go home big hero's if we come back with that shit. I get a punch in the ribs from Carol every damn time we show back up without some. Don't think my abs can take the shot this time."

Rick smiled. "Yah. We'll wait til the horde passes before banging on it, though." He paused, opened his mouth again like he'd finally gotten his thoughts in order and then closed his mouth. Ran a hand through his hair and left.

I followed him out and went back to our corner while he peeked out the window. "Still quite a number of them," he said when he came back to our spot.

I laid down on my side to keep pressure off my cuts and bruises, an arm tucked under my head. Rick laid down next to me in the same position, gazing at me with perplexed brows like he was trying to read my mind. I worried for a moment wondering if he could. Walking dead is a thing now, why not mind reading? 

Didn't want him nosing around in the deep corners of my brain because at that moment, I was hiding unfamiliar thoughts. Wanting Rick's hands on me. Fingers brushing through my hair again. Comforting me. For the first time in my adult life, I was craving that. Someone to comfort me and baby me. Tell me everything was ok. But it wasn't just anyone I suddenly wanted that from, it was Rick. 

My mind played a montage of Rick. Dozens of times he's pulled me out of harms way, hundreds of fist bumps and smiles, thousands of times out eyes met. 

Rick reached out and cupped my face with his hand, rubbing circles with his thumb on my cheek. Fuck, WAS he reading my mind?

"Daryl," Rick said. And I wonder if this was going to be a lot of words, the power speech he's been working on since the bathroom. 

"Yah?" I said, keeping as still as possible so he wouldn't stop touching me.

"You gonna punch me if I kiss you?" Rick asked. And I never thought I'd hear a sentence like that. And definitely never thought I'd LIKE a sentence like that. 

"Starting to feel like I might punch you if you don't." I told him blankly, and he smiled with relief like he'd just heard a dying friend was going to live.

He moved closer, both of us still awkward on our sides and pressed his lips to my forehead. 

Ah, fuck, I thought. That was all he wanted. Just a consoling kind of kiss, the lip equivalent of running fingers through my hair. I kept my eyes closed after I felt his lips pull away, his body still near. 

His lips appeared again high on my cheek and I heard him breathing. It's the only thing I heard, every other noise disappeared from the concentration I put on the sound of Rick just being alive and there with me.

His lips slowly left me again and then finally came to rest on mine at an awkward angle. Our bodies shifted a little and Rick tilted his head to get the right position to open his mouth and kiss me deep with tongue and groans and rapid breaths and then two hands gently holding my face, thumbs brushing against my cheeks.

When we parted to catch our breath, Rick sat up and his eyes drifted up and down on me from head to toe and back. 

"Wish you weren't so hurt," he said, resting a hand on my hip.

"What would you do if I wasn't?" I asked, hearing the sounds of sex and need in my own voice.

Rick looked me up and down again and brushed a hand through his own hair.

"I don't even fucking know," he said.  
........

The second time Rick heard me scream was under markedly different circumstances, but under the same conditions, me and Rick out on a run, alone. This time it was a house, with blankets and a bed. And yes, we planned our "supply run" so that we'd have these luxuries. 

I had clearly been too injured after the close call for anything more to transpire than kisses and conversation. 

The conversation had been a monsoon of feelings and thoughts spilling from both of us. Neither of us having realized how badly we'd wanted each other until that day when we almost lost our chance.

We'd decided that we needed our bodies to be together as soon as I was healed and we talked as comfortable with each other as we'd always been about exactly how that would work since neither of us had been with men. Mouths? Hands? One inside the other?

We talked about how good all those scenarios would feel and I even tried to convince him that I wasn't in that much pain and maybe we could try with hands, but he wanted to wait, too afraid my writhing might hurt me.

We didn't tell anyone about the close call or our kisses. I kept my injuries hidden. I was well-practiced at that. As usual, there was no privacy at the prison, and only a few opportunities presented themselves for a soft kiss or a long, lingering eye fuck.

At one point when I'd started healing we had about a minute and a half alone and Rick grabbed me and massaged my ass with his hands as our lips were quenched with each other's kisses. And I knew that I was going to be begging for him to fuck me. I wanted him in me. Badly.

"We gotta get the fuck out of here, Rick," I told him. "Plan another run for us. I fucking need you in me. Want you to take me. I'm healed. I'm ready." He growled a little at my begging as he gave me a dominating, controlling kiss, training my lips to do what his wanted and teaching my tongue how to make room for his in my mouth. We made plans that very second for a run the next day.

When we pulled up to a home that looked as good as any other, we kept it all business, clearing every square inch of the place. Circling back to the master once we were sure we were alone.

We stood in front of the big bed for a moment and then Rick started digging through night stands while I went into the master bath to dig through drawers. 

I was the one to find something, a bottle of lube that would surely be coming back with us cause even though Rick hadn't been in me yet, I already wanted him again and we were just simply gonna have to find a way to do it at the prison.

I walked into the bedroom, let my crossbow drop to the floor and tossed the lube onto the bed. Rick looked up, saw it and turned to me quiet like the calm before a storm. He took hard, purposeful, forceful steps towards me and I buried myself in him, opening my lips to his and pressing into his chest, tilting my head to give him the dominant angle, all my body language screaming for him to take me.

He started fumbling with his belt and holster with his lips still on me, teeth holding onto my bottom lip demanding that I stay put.

As he finally let go and pushed his pants off I took off my shirt and started unbuttoning. Rick's shirt was gone too by the time I looked back up. 

Our chests heaved as we stood naked, two feet apart, with growing pupils and growing erections.

"I don't know how to do this," I quietly told him making sure he clearly knew I wanted him to lead.

He gently grabbed by face between his confident hands and kissed me as he moved me to the bed, laid me down and climbed over me. He rolled his hips into me, our hard cocks against each other sharing the same friction. 

"I've already fucked you in my mind a hundred times in the past three weeks." He whispered into my ear as he bit and tugged at my earlobe.

He grabbed the lube and squirted it onto his fingers. "Relax," he said as I tensed to his finger suddenly at my entrance, massaging in slow circles until it wiggled it's way into me. He slowly pressed it in as far as he could. It was a foreign feeling with a slight bit of discomfort. But as he start to slowly move it in and out of me, I started craving more. 

And he always could read me well, so he knew and slowly inserted a second finger, moving them wide inside me, loosening me, getting me ready. Jesus fuck, it felt good. I rolled my head back and felt his tongue lick a line up my neck.

He pulled his fingers out, and I can tell he's stroking himself with his slick hand, getting his cock lubed and ready. His eyes were already fucking me before I felt the tip of his cock as we both just studied each other's reactions. As his cock slid in, filling me wider than I thought was possible, I felt a little sting of pain, but the nice kind that makes good even better. His gaze was swollen with heat and intensity and passion.

And he kissed me again as he started pumping slowly in and out. "Does it hurt?" he broke away to ask.

I shook my head. "It's fucking... Fuck." I said unable to think of a single adjective to describe the feeling of Rick controlling my body from the outside and the inside. I was wrapped in him.

"How do I feel?" I asked him softly. 

"Jesus. Tight. Warm," he closed his eyes, hips still moving him in and out, in and out. Slowly. "Feels goddamn perfect."

Rick raised himself a bit and pumped himself in deeper and this new angle changed everything. His cock was hitting something that sent electricity through me and my entire body reacted pleading for more.

"Holy shit, Rick. Don't stop. Keep moving just like that, Jesus Christ." I was shouting now. Time for soft whispers was over. 

Rick grabbed my cock, swollen purple between us and started jerking me off while he fucked me and I knew it was close. "Ri...gon.. Cum.." I babbled partial words, my tongue incapable of working. I met his eyes. 

"Go on, baby. Fucking come for me," Rick growled. And I'm pretty sure if he ever says those words to me again, even just passing me in the hall, I'll instantly come in my own pants.

And that's when he heard me scream for the second time, as I came hard between us with my brain thinking nothing but 'Rick, Rick, Rick, Rick,'. But the words just come out as a deep scream as I felt the orgasm, different from anything ever, and I was exploding inside and outside and my heart was exploding and my brain was exploding and the only thing that makes it out of my mouth is that scream of sheer pleasure as my body trembles under Rick. 

And Rick, always better with words, comes too. I feel it in me as he's talking through it. "Jesus, Daryl. You are so fucking ... Fuck!" 

And as we laid there after, practically melting into the bed and smiling at each other like newly-minted non-virgins, he said, "We're really gonna have trouble figuring out how to do this at the prison if you're a screamer."

"Just got caught off guard," I insisted, a dopey grin plastered across my face. "I can be quiet."

"I don't know that you can." He laughed. And frankly he was probably right. He knows me better than I know myself. We are closer than brothers. Once a man hears you scream in terror AND in ecstasy, you don't get much closer than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yah, I couldn't seem to leave this story without them getting physical. Hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry no fluff or smut! Trying to grab a real moment in this one. But that said- I'm probably going to continue this for another chapter or two where they'll console each other with fluff and smut. Cause they should, right?


End file.
